


around the reckless magic of your mouth

by clockworkrobots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone who's never once in his life celebrated it, Dean tries his best to give Castiel an Easter worth remembering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	around the reckless magic of your mouth

So here's the thing about Dean Winchester: he doesn't actually know _when_ Easter is. For all he can ever really tell, it's a two month long retail festival lasting from February 15th until somewhere April, and at some point in the middle all the chocolate suddenly becomes really cheap. He doesn't really care if his cheap chocolate comes in heart shape or rabbit shape depending on the time of year, of couse, just so long as it comes in generous baskets in the discount section of the store.

Suffice to say, for a holdiay a lot of people seemed to flock around, Easter was obviously something Dean never really _got_. It's not like he was a believer or anything, and though the food aspect was definitely something he could get behind, it wasn't like he really needed an occasion for that indulgence anyway.

Somewhere along the way of knowing Cas, though, Dean suddenly realised that Easter might be a _thing_ for him.

He didn't know if angels even _cared_ at all for human festivals that may or may not be based upon an apocryphal retelling of events, for all he knew, and frankly he was a bit too terrified to ask. There was the obvious fear of smiting, of course, if Cas was in some way pissed enough that Dean dare question the validity of such a sanctified, holy weekend. Not that Dean was generally one to stand upon making good impressions, because a _fuck you very much_ was always easier, but Cas was, well,  _Cas_ , and Dean was very much resigned by now to the fact that he was very much in love with him.

So, if he could share a holiday that might be important to him, well, that was what people in love did, right? Even if their object of affection was a multi-dimensional wave length of celestial intent, who might not even like chocolate?

This was the big time, baby, and there was _no_ fucking up.

Which was why, when Sam offhandedly joked that now that they had a permanent place in the form of a secret society bunker (where the only absurd thing about _that_ was how _normal_ it sounded in Dean's head) they could have their very own Easter egg hunt that they always joked about as kids (because it was kind of hard to ever have one growing up in tiny, more-than-likely-mould-infested motel rooms), Dean stopped dead in his tracks. The idea was so stupid it was _brilliant_. Not even an angel as serially grumpy as Cas could refuse to be wooed by candy in the form of _baby animals_.

Before the anxiety of whether Cas would actually find the idea of eating baby animal shaped candy grotesque and barbaric or not (he'd taken a huge shine to a litter of kittens at a witness' house the other week, completely oblivious to the torture he was inflicting on Dean by playing with them; there was simply a level of cuteness no person should ever have to bear), Dean quickly set upon making the Men of Letters bunker the site of the World's Greatest Easter Egg Hunt. It was just his luck too, that what ever artefacts stash the Men of Letters had built up for themselves came replete with a whole carton full of Fabergé eggs. Dean was going to fucking do this in _style_.

Cas, bless his perfect timing, pops in just as Dean is hiding the last egg.

"You realise that Easter as a human holiday is not actually about consuming confectionary," Cas says when Dean explains the concept of an Easter egg hunt to him.

" _Some_ versions are," he defends. "And hey! We can do whatever you want later. Go to church even, if that's your thing," he offers, because it certainly wasn't _Dean's_ , but well, love, sacrifice, etc.

"The irony of a divine being who has been resurrected as many times as myself, encased in the body of a man, walking into a church on Easter of all occasions, is not one that escapes me, I'm afraid," Cas deadpans, in such a dry tone that Dean assumes this is Cas' version of a joke. Cas continues on before Dean can comment however, "But thank you for your offer. Indeed. I would like to try your hunt instead."

Well, there's a success, at least. 

Cas, of course, ends up finding all the eggs through a trail of clues left in each 5 times faster than it took for Dean to even hide them in the first place.

"I have to admit I thought the grand prize would be a little... grander," Cas says into the last, largely empty egg, pulling out its only contents, a small slip of paper reading only: _look up_.

He does, and is greeted by the sight of a very bland concrete ceiling. "There is nothing up there," he states rather obviously.

"Jesus, it's _me_ , you idiot."

Cas squints, confusion crinkling his brow. "But you're in front of me."

Dean can't help but huff exasperatedly. This was supposed to go _so_ much better. "Yeah, 'look up'  _at me_.  _I'm_  your prize."

"But I already have you--" Cas begins to protest, but at Dean's suggestively raised eyebrow, understanding suddenly dawns. "Oh, you mean carnally, of course."

"No!" Dean yelps. "I mean, yeah carnally is cool, I guess, _definitely_ more than cool," he amends, "but it's--well, it's stupid. But I meant in the..." he waves his hand around, "sappy sweetheart way, whatever."

"My grand prize is a sweetheart instead of the traditional prize of sweets, you're saying," Cas clarifies for certainty.

Dean laughs nervously. "Ah... yeah, wow that sounds so much lamer spoken out loud. But, ah, there you go."

When the silence stretches on, Dean tries to wave it off. "We can forget this ever happened."

Wordlessly, Cas closes the lid of the last egg, at sets it atop a bookshelf that stands beside him. "Now _that_ , I would regret," is all he says, which _sounds_  encouraging, except his mouth is still set into a hard line, indecipherable as ever. Dean continues sweating buckets.

He's entirely unprepared, then, despite his many hours prior spent in preparation for exactly this, for when Cas walks over, crowding so far into his personal space it's really _their_ personal space now, and kisses him. And for a moment Dean doesn't even have the brain power to respond, too caught up in the realisation that this was suddenly going _way_ better than he planned. When he regains his thought process however, he returns the kiss with matched enthusiasm, sliding his hand up into Cas' hair to cup the back of his head. They shuffle back into the bookcase now behind them, and as Dean pushes Cas' back against it, the forgotten egg that had been placed there teeters in the sudden jolting movement before clattering to the floor. Neither of them notice, prefering instead to focus on the sounds being pulled from each other's mouths. Dean thinks there could hardly be anything better to hear or feel in this world than the sweet sound of the supple pull and press of Cas' lips.

"Hmm," Cas hums into his lips, right before Dean pulls away slightly, still fitted comfortably chest to chest.

"What?" Dean asks, poorly fighting back a gleeful grin because he just _kissed Castiel_.

"I did erroneously hope your lips would taste like chocolate," Cas states, so steady and sincere it makes Dean burst out laughing. 

It also makes him think maybe, this whole loving a ball of holy light thing wouldn't be so hard after all. Apparently angels _do_  love chocolate, and more importantly this one, loved _Dean_.


End file.
